


i spoke about wings, you just flew

by allgay



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Assassination Attempt(s), Festivals, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Romantic Friendship, Sharing a Bed, alcohol use, fire lord zuko & ambassador sokka, i have work in 7 hours and instead of sleeping i am here :), i wish i could say i didn't write this to process my real life, sokka and zuko are best best friends :), sokka being unsurprisingly emotionally intelligent, sokka is powerful as hell, zuko working on his emotional issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:48:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24924136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allgay/pseuds/allgay
Summary: It's been four years since the war ended, and the world is well on its way – Zuko is working hard to make sure it gets there. If he's not happy most of the time, at least he's fixing his mistakes, right? Sokka doesn't think so. So he convinces Zuko to come home with him, for the Southern Water Tribe's midwinter festival. Even Zuko admits it'll be fun, relaxing, and a good chance to network.Later, Zuko guesses that's probably the point where everything started going wrong.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 88





	i spoke about wings, you just flew

September is the worst month in the Fire Nation, still sweltering but now anticipatory, too. Zuko hates it – he wants to lay in his cool, dark room all afternoon and dream away the heat, waiting for autumn. Nevertheless, a nation can’t be put on hold for a little sweat and angst, so he dutifully confers with advisors, hears testimonies of the Fire Nation’s victims, and calls on his turtle-ducks. But the long, hot days take their toll. The evenings weep with humidity and Zuko tosses and turns, dreaming of ice. Though he refuses to put a name to what he’s waiting for, by the end of the month, he is more than ready for what October will bring.

He wakes on the first cool day with weighty anticipation in his chest. Zuko learned a long time ago how to be single-minded, how to lock away the deepest desires of his heart and attend to the task at hand. There is a nation to be run, and a world to be fixed, and he cannot allow his emotions – anticipation, longing, grief, anything – to drive him to distraction. There is one thing in particular which must be studiously locked away each April and hidden dutifully until October. His summers must be as focused as the sun is hot, and they are. But on this first crisp morning, he allows the focus to fall away. It is time to remember what’s coming. 

He lies awake, eyes closed, and turns his attention inwards. Enclosed in the small hand of his heart is a silver key. Zuko imagines it cold to the touch, icy as it slowly turns in the lock of his mind. He takes a deep breath before he finally opens the latch and – and –

blue and cool and kind eyes and kinder heart and laughter and ice and joy and otter-penguins and mirth snow welcome ocean starry friendship –

In October, Sokka is returning to the Fire Nation.  
____________________

The water tribe boats come slowly across the harbor, half-shrouded in mist. Zuko imagines the scene must have looked much the same years ago, when the fleet came to destroy his family. But today it isn’t caution that slows their motion, and it’s not stealth that keeps them hidden. No, now their boats are weighed down with gifts instead of weapons, and only the lazy sun can be blamed for the lingering morning mist. Today, Zuko stands at the balcony in his finest ceremonial robes to welcome the Southern Water Tribe’s citizens as equals and allies. 

As the boats draw nearer, Zuko can hear sailors calling to one another: the quick, percussive directions of the captain and the answering shouts of the crew. Involuntarily, his ears strain for a familiar laugh. He swears he can almost hear it, the booming vibrations echoing into Zuko’s own chest, and the arm coming to fall across his shoulders, and –

“Sir,” interrupts one of his attendants, Yun. “The Water Nation fleet has made land. The procession is on their way to the palace.”

“Thank you, Yun,” replies Zuko.

Yun smiles and places a warm, broad hand on Zuko’s shoulder. In the beginning, the palace staff, Yun included, cowered near Zuko – not that he could blame them. Now, after four long years, Zuko has earned their trust with patience, forgiveness, and more than a few pratfalls. 

When Yun softly says, “Sokka’s home now, sir,” Zuko knows he hasn’t just earned Yun’s trust. Yun understands that this isn’t just another ambassador’s visit; he knows how much Sokka means to Zuko. Zuko has earned Yun’s understanding, and his friendship. Bowing his head, Zuko murmurs words of genuine thanks. With a kind nod, Yun steps back to take his place at the door. 

Zuko casts one more long look across the harbor, then he turns. The ceremonial robes are stiff and make terrible swishing noises as he walks the long carpet leading to the throne. It almost reminds him of his father. 

Infinite incarnations of Zuko have let their feet sink into this plush red pathway, and Zuko sees them all before him today. He will carry their weight forever. The desperate hunter of a boy is gone now, but the sleek darkness remains. It unsettles people, the way Zuko moves, even though he takes care to make his steps heavy and his smile easy. Especially now, as he approaches the throne that once held all his forefathers, good and evil, Zuko moves with deliberate gentleness and genuine smiles.

When he settles on the throne, two attendants help him arrange the robes on the chair, then they melt away into the shadows. A deep, loud bell sounds. Showtime. The room holds its breath for one, two, and suddenly: a fanfare.

“Ambassador Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe,” announces Yun from the door. Zuko is teetering on a knife’s edge. His chest heats like a war balloon, lifting and expanding until it fills the room, and just as it’s about to burst, the door opens and –

Sokka.

Sokka! His dark, smooth skin; his blue eyes; the quirk of his slightly crooked jaw. His shoulders seem broader; could he have grown even more over the summer? Zuko wants to laugh, and cry, and scream, and run around, and hug him, and strangle him for taking so long, and laugh and cry again for good measure. But Fire Lords do not enter a manic state upon the return of an ambassador, even if the ambassador is their closest friend. So instead of laughing and crying, Zuko allows himself one delighted blink before schooling his expression. He is marble.

“Welcome, Ambassador Sokka. Welcome, Southern Water Tribe citizens.” Zuko’s “Fire Lord voice,” as Aang calls it, is a well-practiced mix of warm and unyielding. It shows no emotion besides perhaps a removed benevolence.

Sokka’s “Ambassador voice” is nothing of the sort. Sokka was always the most naturally charming member of Team Avatar, and he learned quickly to use that to his advantage. He doesn’t try to hide his delight at seeing Zuko again after six months, and Zuko is mildly jealous that it only makes Sokka more endearing. “We are more than pleased to receive your welcome, Fire Lord Zuko.”

“Citizens of the Southern Water Tribe,” Zuko begins. “The Fire Nation is grateful for what our alliance with your tribe has brought to this great nation. Truly, we are stronger together. Please accept these gifts to demonstrate our thanks.” Attendants emerge from doors at the side of the room, arms laden with expensive but useful gifts. Zuko smiles, then, the guileless but deliberate smile of a kind leader. 

Sokka smiles back, big and real. “We thank you, Fire Lord Zuko. Allow us to present these tokens of our gratitude.” His attendants come forward, too, bearing beautiful things from the South. The Water Tribe and Fire Nation attendants face each other in two long lines, heads bowed with respect.

Unexpectedly, Sokka breaks out of the line, approaching the throne. It is not uncommon for Sokka and Zuko to bring one another personal gifts, but they usually exchange them later. Sokka must want to make a statement, then. Although they’re on high alert after four years of constant assassination attempts, Zuko’s guards do not even flinch forward – they know he trusts Sokka with everything, including his life. 

At the bottom of the steps leading to Zuko’s throne, Sokka stops and produces a long, thin package wrapped in supple leather. Eyes lowered, Sokka begins to unwrap the package, revealing two perfectly balanced blades. The handles are whalebone, carved with patterns so intricate Zuko can’t quite see them from his throne. If Sokka made these, it must have taken him all summer – maybe all year. 

Zuko tries to catch Sokka’s eye, figure out why he’s being so bold, but Sokka stares and stares at the beautiful swords. Finally, Sokka lifts his gaze. Zuko’s breath catches in his throat when their eyes meet. Sokka’s voice is lower, almost gravelly when he speaks. “Fire Lord Zuko, I present to you these swords as a representation of our four years of friendship. Both as nations... and as men.” And with that, he kneels. 

It is almost unheard of for leaders to be so forward, even now. Zuko can’t tell how he feels. Not angry, not embarrassed. It’s...it’s good. Maybe something a little softer than pride, but fiery, too. The feeling swoops violently in his stomach and he stands, much too hastily to pretend he isn’t moved by the gift. He wants, strangely, to cry. Instead, he moves softly down the stairs and lays a hand on Sokka’s shoulder. He speaks so softly it is almost a whisper. “Thank you, Sokka. I thank you.” 

Zuko can stand the pleasantries and theatrics no longer. It has been six months without his best friend, and he intends to begin their next six months together right this minute. So he lifts his arms, scraps the prepared speeches, and addresses the crowd. “Thank you, Water Tribe citizens. Thank you, Fire Nation citizens. You are dismissed.”

____________________

Barely five minutes later, Sokka and Zuko are careening down the hallways, laughing wildly at the tops of their lungs. They may have ended a Hundred Years’ War, but they’re still not much more than a couple overgrown boys, shouting about the look on their adviser’s faces when Zuko cut the introductory meeting short. As they near Zuko’s suite, Sokka grabs Zuko’s wrist and pulls him down into a service passageway just off the main hallway. Zuko collapses on top of Sokka, glaring at him. 

“I have a room, genius,” he says, glowering. “It’s air-conditioned. Why can’t we ever hang out there?”

“And where would be the fun in that? Besides, Sparky, that air conditioning system was my idea, and don’t you forget it,” Sokka replies. “Can’t have our precious hotman getting too hot, man.” He screws up his face and pokes Zuko, doing his best to look high and mighty, but it only lasts three seconds before they’re laughing again. 

“I don’t know how I survive six months of the year without you, Sokka,” says Zuko, accidentally honest in the midst of his giggles, still wiping tears from his eyes. 

Sokka stills somewhat at that, and grins affectionately at Zuko. “Hey, I’m just saying, there’s a reason I come every October, and it ain’t just oh-so-important-Ambassador-and-Ideas-Guy business. I’m kind of the best birthday present a guy like you could ask for.” He pats Zuko on the cheek with another goofy grin. “You didn’t think I forgot, did you? Happy birthday, Fire Lord.” 

Sokka presses a cool, smooth object into Zuko’s hands. “But Sokka,” Zuko protests. “You already gave me those beautiful swords. I couldn’t.”

“Bah!” exclaims Sokka, blushing a little. “That was for Fire Lord Zuko. This is for Sparky. My best friend!” He and Zuko both blush deeper at that. “Now, open it up, hotman!”

Zuko opens his hands to reveal… a misshapen piece of driftwood? “Oh, wow, um. Thanks, Sokka, you shouldn’t have. This is…really nice. I’m...touched.”

Sokka grins smugly. “I know, pretty great, huh? It’s some of my best work, undoubtedly.”

Zuko is still looking at the thing, like if he stares at it long enough he’ll figure out what it is. Maybe if he rotates it?

“I mean, I had to decide which of our many, many memories to carve for you,” Sokka rambles on. “The time you tried to make me dinner and accidentally exploded the kitchen? You projectile vomiting at the first Fire Nation festival? The time we all made you go camping in the courtyard with us for old time’s sake and a tree branch fell on your head? But then I thought, what about one of the many times you tried to kill me? That would be fun, I thought, so I started –”

“Sokka!” Zuko interrupts. “Thank you, buddy. I love it.” And, god help him, he really does. God help him, he is his father’s worst nightmare – best friends with a Water Tribe peasant, delighted over a hunk of driftwood. He wouldn’t have it any other way; he’s happier than ever with Sokka by his side. He laughs to think of what Azula would say. 

Sokka grabs his hand and squeezes it enthusiastically. “You’re welcome, Zuko. I wish I could give you more, but hey, what do you get the Fire Lord who has everything, you know?” 

Zuko can’t help but say, “You’re more than enough for this Fire Lord, Sokka.” And he means it to be a goofy joke, but somehow his hand has come up to Sokka’s jaw, the crooked side where the bone’s just barely wider, and higher. Sokka leans into the touch, just a little. His blue eyes are wide open, watching Zuko fondly but carefully. Zuko doesn’t know why, but he leans in until he swears he can feel the heat of Sokka’s body on the skin of his face. And there’s a beat of pure silence.

But it’s too much closeness, suddenly, and Zuko jolts back like he was shocked. Sokka looks away immediately and rubs at his neck. There’s some kind of feeling coming up through Zuko’s stomach, settling in his chest, but Zuko can’t identify it and doesn’t really care to try. 

Instead, he laughs awkwardly and ruffles Sokka’s hair. “Hey, buddy, let’s get to it. I know I’ve got you here for six months now, but it’s never too early to, um,” he thinks frantically of an activity, “start training! We can’t get lazy, and anyway I want to try those epic dual broadswords you gave me.”

Sokka groans. “Listen, Zuko, about that…” 

Zuko laughs. “Come on, lazybones, you can do it.” Zuko clambers to his feet and tries to pull Sokka up off the ground after him, only Sokka has grown so much it’s a bit of a struggle. 

“No, Zuko, it’s not the training, it’s the…” Sokka winces. “It’s the six months. I’m not going to be here for six months this year, Zuko.”

Not six months? Is Sokka leaving already? Why? To where? Zuko drops Sokka back onto the floor in surprise. Sokka lands with a thud. Zuko feels stupid, of course Sokka wouldn’t want to spend six months with Zuko. He’s probably embarrassed at how much Zuko cares about him, maybe he’s trying to let Zuko down easy. Zuko’s mind races. 

“Ow, dickbag! What the hell, dude!” Sokka exclaims. Zuko is staring at him, trying to keep his breathing under control. Is it possible that thirty seconds ago they were laughing? More softly, Sokka sighs and says, “Zuko, babe, the Southern Water Tribe is having a festival at midwinter. I need to be there. It...didn’t feel like the right thing to say in a letter. I gotta go home, bud. This only happens once every four years, and it’s been four since the last. Don’t you remember the midwinter festival just after the war ended?” 

Of course he does. He remembers lights and ice and lots of stars. He remembers laughing, really laughing for the first time in a long time. Maybe ever. Mostly, he remembers Sokka introducing Zuko to his home – his home that had suffered painfully from Zuko’s plentiful mistakes – and doing it with nothing but love and good humor. Zuko still doesn’t understand why Sokka treated him so kindly, but he refuses to look a gift horse in the mouth. He decided that night, at the festival: he will be Sokka’s best friend for as long as Sokka will have him, and no matter what, he will love Sokka for all eternity. 

“Zuko,” starts Sokka, jarring Zuko out of his memories. “Come with me when I go. Come home with me. Please.”

Zuko doesn’t know what to say. Go with Sokka? Sure, he would go with Sokka anywhere; he would follow him to the ends of the earth. But – but Zuko has obligations, he has baggage. There’s no way he can make the journey. “Sokka, I… the assassination attempts,” Zuko explains. “It would put you, and your tribe, in too much danger. I’m safest here, and this way I don’t attract danger for you. And...and there’s so much left to do. The world is still… I haven’t finished fixing my mistakes yet, Sokka. I can’t leave.”

Sokka huffs. “Zuko, please. First of all, you’ll be traveling with some of the best warriors in the world. You’ll have the same attendants to protect you, plus Toph, who can stop here before we all leave for the South Pole. And, not to mention, you’ll have me.” Sokka kicks Zuko’s foot gently and forces a bit of a laugh. But Zuko doesn’t laugh back. He just stares.

“Sokka, I can’t.” Zuko sounds miserable. “I can’t.”

“Zuko, look at me,” Sokka says. He tugs Zuko down so they’re criss-cross applesauce, facing each other, and takes Zuko’s face in his long, thin hands. “Look at me. You are doing such good work here. You have made so much progress. It’s enough, buddy, I swear it’s enough for now. You can take a break for two weeks, I promise. I already talked to Yun, and he almost begged me to take you. He consulted with all of your advisers, and they say you should come too. It’s a politically smart move, Zuko. You’ll be showing solidarity, real solidarity, with the Water Tribe, and leaders from the entire world will be there to rub elbows with you.”

Zuko tries to shake his head, but Sokka grips his jaw more firmly. 

“No, listen,” Sokka says. “I’m not finished. Now, I know what you’re going to say. ‘I’m a danger, Sokka, everyone’s trying to kill me, Sokka.’ Bullshit. There hasn’t been an assassination attempt in a year and a half, and even if there is, you’ll be traveling with some of the most elite warriors in the world. I already told you we’ll bring both our guards and Toph with us, and when we get there the Kyoshi Warriors will be there, too. I know it’s high risk, and I know you worry about civilians, so I’ve already told everyone to protect civilians first, and then you, you self-sacrificing bastard. If something happens, our peoples will be safe.”

Sokka must see Zuko starting to say something, because he cuts Zuko off before he can make a sound. “Nope! I’m not finished yet, hotman. So, let’s review: your nation will benefit, your people will be safe. What’s left? Oh yeah,” Sokka smiles softly, “little ol’ you. Zuko, you know you’re my best friend. You haven’t taken a vacation in four years. Your makeup artist is good, but she can’t fool me. I can see the dark circles under your eyes. I know you haven’t slept in a week, and it probably isn’t just ‘cause you were excited to see me. Yun told me how bad things have been. Zuko, you’re so close to peace in the Three Nations, but you’re just as unhappy as you were before.”

“Not when you’re around,” Zuko interrupts quietly. “I’m fine when you’re not here. And I’m so happy when you are.”

“But Zuko, babe, I want you to be happy all the time.” Sokka runs his thumb over Zuko’s good cheekbone. “You deserve that. Please come home with me. At the least, Katara and Aang miss you. And hey,” Sokka teases. “Don’t you think I want my full six months too?” 

Zuko smiles, just barely, at that. But it’s enough to set Sokka grinning uncontrollably. “Please come, Zuko, come on. It’s going to be soooo much fuuuun.”

Zuko stares up at Sokka through his long lashes, smiling slowly wider. He covers Sokka’s hands with his own, still resting on his jaw. “You know, Sokka,” Zuko says. “I see why they call you the ideas guy.” 

Sokka holds his breath. 

“Yes, Sokka. I’ll come.”

There is an explosion of limbs and sloppy cheek kisses as Sokka wrestles Zuko to the floor, puppy-happy at the news. He sings a loud and off-key rendition of the Southern Water Tribe’s anthem, flipping Zuko and prodding him until he joins in. This is, of course, until Zuko flips him  
back over and pokes him until he’ll sing the new Fire Nation anthem. As well-matched a pair of opponents as they are, it’s a long while until they struggle to their feet and rush off to find dinner. 

And if during that long while, Zuko sends up a silent message to himself at thirteen, wishing he could say, hey, this is what friendship feels like; this is what love feels like and you’ll finally find it if you just hold on… well. The spirits aren’t going to say anything.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! this is my first real undertaking of a fanfic, so i'm still learning, but i had a great deal of fun with this chaper. i hope you didn't find it boring – nothing really happens in this chapter, but i wanted to establish a strong foundation for sokka and zuko's relationship and the circumstances of their world. please leave any constructive criticism, comments, ideas, praise, rotten vegetables, etc. in the comments. i'd truly appreciate it. much love, lucy. <3


End file.
